


Meet Your Son

by ryanthreetimes



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Diary/Journal, Gay Parents, Hank and Connor have a kid together, High School, Other, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-11-18 05:43:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18114467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryanthreetimes/pseuds/ryanthreetimes
Summary: Diary entries from Hank and Connor Anderson's child that cover his struggle to come out as transgender to his parents, as well as coming to terms with who he wants to be.





	1. April 17th, 2047

This is weird for me, I’ll definitely say that. I’ve never done this whole “diary/journal” thing and taken it seriously, but Andrea told me I should do it. Andrea’s my therapist, but I don’t know why I’m writing that in here, considering I'm the only person who's ever going to read this besides her. I know who she is and she knows who she is, but I’m just trying to fill these pages because apparently it’s good for my head. So, hello journal. It's nice to meet you. Dad bought you for $3 at Walmart. My name is Cole, but that’s not what my dad’s call me. They call me my birth name. My girl name. I hate it so much, I don’t even want to write it in this journal. They don’t know that I’m transgender, they just think I’m a butch lesbian, I guess. They’re okay with me being gay, though. I mean, Dad’s bisexual and Poppa’s gay, but they’ve been married for like- 20 years now. They’re well acquainted with the gay scene in Detroit; We even go to Motor City Pride every year together as a family and have a great time. Pride with my dads really is one of the highlights of my year, but I’m tired of going with the lesbian flag around my shoulders. That’s not who I am. Next year, I’m going to go with the transgender pride flag proudly around me- with or without my dads. That’s the scary part to think about- going to Pride without my dads, knowing damn well they’ll still be there.

I’m not really new to the whole "coming out" thing. Although, I never had to come out to my dads as a lesbian. I just showed up at the house one day and introduced my girlfriend with absolutely no issue. However, coming out to them as transgender is going to be a whole different story. I’m out to all of my friends at school as transgender and most of them took it pretty well. I lost a friend or two, but my close friends stayed with me, and had no problem calling me by the correct pronouns and my new name. My teachers call me Cole at school and I even have a girlfriend- who identifies as straight. I came out to my friends at school as soon as I realized I was trans, which was my sophomore year of high school. Now, I’m graduating from this place in a month and the principal is going to call for COLE Anderson, because that’s what I changed my name on my school account to. Once I was eighteen, I changed all of my school information to come to my email instead of Dad’s, and I’ve managed to completely change my identity at school without my dads even knowing. They don’t even question it or argue against me because Dad hated getting the weekly emails and phone calls from school so much. I need to come out to them before I’m forced to, because God knows how Dad would react if he found out doesn’t have his “sweet little girl” anymore from my PRINCIPAL.

Oh yeah, DADS. I should probably touch base on all of that, shouldn’t I? I have two dads and they’ve raised me better than I could ever ask for. Poppa told me that when he was my age, “gay marriage” was almost like a bad word, but the situation for him and Dad has gotten so much better as the years went on. I love both of them with my whole heart and I’d do anything to see their dorky smiles, but I just can’t pretend to be a girl to keep them comfortable anymore. I have absolutely no clue how they’ll react, because they’ve really never been introduced to someone who’s transgender before. I feel like if they’re okay with it, my life’s going to be FILLED with lots of questions and “Are you Sure?”s. 

I think when I finally grow the balls (ha.) to come out to them within the next month, Poppa will be okay with it. He’s pretty okay with most things, as long as you’re not hurting or upsetting anyone else. I think that’s probably from when he lived in New York for a while and did the whole "Broadway performer" thing. I guess you become kind of.. used? to different kinds of people when you live in a big city like that. Dad, however? He’s lived in Detroit for his WHOLE life. He’s never left the place, and he’s been in the same job for like, 30 some odd years. Dad’s not so great with change, and he does mumble the occasional transphobic comment when Poppa and I watch drag queens on TV, but I always attempt to change his mind on the subject. I think he might be catching onto me.

I really don’t know what else to write, I feel like I just spilled my whole life story just to a piece of paper, but Andrea was right. It felt really nice to just let all of this out. I’ll probably bring this entry to a wrap, but I’m going to try to write in this thing every day so Andrea can read it and track my progress over this nerve wracking next month. I’m off to go watch drag queens on TV with Poppa, so I’ll write tomorrow. Probably after dinner. I think that’ll be my journaling time. I don’t know why I’m rambling. I’ll see you tomorrow, little journal dude.

-Cole


	2. April 19, 2047

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cole writes about who his dads really are in hopes of informing his journal about the people he's so scared to come out to.

Hey, little journal dude. I didn’t write yesterday because I honestly forgot. I was heading to bed when I remembered I was supposed to be writing in this, so I just put it off until today. I’m currently writing this on the car ride home to school, sitting right NEXT to Poppa. I’m thinking about calling my dads by their first names to avoid confusion but, as I wrote earlier, the only people who are going to read this are me and Andrea, so I guess it doesn’t matter, right? We both know who Dad is and who Poppa is, but maybe I should tell YOU, journal dude. I think that could be what today’s entry is about. Let me tell you about my dads.

My DAD is a police officer in the Detroit Police Department. He’s been a Lieutenant since before I was born, but he used to work on the Red Ice Task Force, which was basically a group of big dudes who would go around Detroit and bust drug crimes all around the city. When I was about 6, Dad and I were in a car accident and he thought he was going to lose me forever (according to him) and now he’s SUPER protective of me all the time. When I started driving, Dad made me text him a picture of me buckled up and he would track my every move on my phone.

Dad’s the older one of my two parents. He’ll be turning 62 this year, but I think he’s pretty healthy and good looking for his age. He’s got a bit of a gut, but he goes to the gym every day, so it makes up for that. He stopped drinking alcohol when I was born, and Poppa always told me that he’s so much happier without the booze in his life. Dad’s a pretty good guy and even though Poppa’s only a year or two older than half of Dad’s age, Dad definitely gives Poppa a run for his money. Oh, I almost forgot the most important part. Dad’s name is Henry, but everyone calls him Hank. The only people that call him Henry are Grandma and Poppa when he’s angry (which isn’t that often.)

Speaking of Poppa, I find his story a bit more interesting than Dad’s. His name is Connor and he was a military kid who lived all over the place growing up, always pursuing acting. He even went to this super prestigious, hard to get into, theater school in Moscow for a year of high school. Poppa ended up going onto Broadway and became a big name in the business, with thousands upon thousands of fans and followers. I still use the whole “My Poppa’s Connor Arkay” trick on the theater students at school, who lose their mind to this day over it. Poppa stayed on Broadway for ten whole years before moving to Detroit to settle down. From there, he met Dad, and the rest is history.

Poppa’s an elementary school teacher now and he teaches a classroom full of first graders. He’s always been really good with kids, so towards the end of his Broadway career, he also went to school to get a degree to teach. His elementary school is right next door to my school, so if I don’t have anything after classes are done for the day, I’ll walk over to his school and help his kids for the last hour or so of school. The only reason I can’t stand doing it is because Poppa introduced me to all of his students as “my daughter” and the name I hate, so that’s what they all call me now. Originally, I just wanted them to call me “Miss Anderson,” because I’d rather be called “miss” than my first name, but a kid asked if I was married to Poppa and I almost vomited.

That’s pretty much all you need to know about my dads. If I think of anything else, I’ll plug them into other entries, but that’s all I can think of at the moment. They’re just your average dads, aside from the fact that one of them was a Broadway star and the other was the youngest lieutenant in Detroit history but- they’re normal. They’re average dudes. They’re my average dudes and I love them. They tease each other at the dinner table, cuddle up on the couch and fall asleep watching a movie, then Dad always carries Poppa back to their bedroom when I wake him up. Couple goals, right?

I think I’m going to end this entry here, because I said I was just going to talk about my dads. I know if I keep writing, I’m just going to end up rambling and it’s going to be pointless. I think this journaling thing is going well, but my only issue is that the other day that I felt like writing in this was already making me feel better. Yesterday, I was filled with this existential dread because my brain was racing with thoughts of how to come out, when to come out, who to come out to first. I’m genuinely terrified now and I think writing about it is just going to scare me more, but Andrea told me to write this so I’m going to push on and keep writing, no matter how scared I am. That’s some feelings for another entry. See you soon, journal dude.  
\- Cole


	3. April 20, 2049

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cole's Dad makes a comment in front of him that makes him question if he ever wants to come out to his Dad.

Today was a bad day. 

I was watching the news with Dad and Poppa when there was talk about the first transgender presidential candidate who was thinking about running for office in 2052. I am just so happy that she has taken the opportunity to put aside her “different” identity to lead this country and I know for sure that if she's elected in three years, I won’t even have to worry about coming out. If the president is trans and proud, why can’t I be? Well- that was my thought process until Dad finally said something from the couch. I can still hear it ringing in my ears like he had screamed it through the megaphone.

“If that thing becomes president, who knows what will happen to the country?” He said. That was bullet one- enough to hurt- but he kept going. “We’re just going to have people all over the place saying they want to be a girl when they got something between their legs that says different!” Okay, okay, Dad. Too much. Too much. Even Poppa gave Dad a look when he said it and I tried my hardest not to cry. Instead, I just told Dad that what’s between your legs does NOT define who you are and before he could argue, I went to my room and cried.

I think I've been laying in bed crying for maybe an hour now, but I thought to just write to you, little journal dude. Poppa came in to check on me before him and Dad went to bed, and just figured I was upset because I have transgender friends. I wanted to tell him everything right then. I wanted to say, “No, Poppa. I’m upset because I AM transgender. I’m upset because I know Dad isn’t going to support me when I come out. I’m upset because-” The list could go on. I didn’t say anything, though. Poppa gave me a “goodnight, princess,” and left. 

I really don’t know how much longer I can live like this. Recently, I’ve been debating just running away and becoming who I want to be without Dad and Poppa even knowing but… I could never put that kind of stress on them. I don't even want to think about them sitting in the living room waiting for their little girl to get back every night, because that just makes me want to cry even more. I love them too much to put them through that. I have no clue on what I’m going to do with my life, and it's scaring me. Just the thought of coming out sends me spiraling so bad that I have to crawl out of my window and sit on the roof to calm down. The fresh air helps, Andrea taught me that.

I’m sorry today’s entry is short, journal. I’m just starting to fall asleep- but I needed to write all of this down before I pushed it into the part of my brain where I store things I don’t want to think about. There’s just so many stressors when it comes to being who I am and I hate it. Why couldn’t I have just been born a boy? I wouldn’t be suffering every day like I am now.

I hate this.  
\- Cole


End file.
